


Basic is Basic

by jooliewrites



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: (But no actual violence), Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Ficlet, Fluff, Guns, M/M, references to violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 20:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3542573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jooliewrites/pseuds/jooliewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Where did you learn to shoot a gun?” Connor yells as Oliver grabs his hand and pulls him, sprinting, down the corridor.</p>
<p>“The same place you did,” Oliver replies, absentmindedly, as they start moving again swiftly, but silently, to the stairwell.</p>
<p>“No. I learned in basic.”</p>
<p>“That’s what I said. Basic training. Same as you.”</p>
<p>“Oliver,” Connor starts but the click of a boot on tile up ahead alerts him, someone’s coming. Quickly, he wrenches open the first door he finds and shoves Oliver into the small closet, following close behind and tugging the door closed. “I’m in the field and you’re in tech support. You didn’t have basic.”</p>
<p>“Yes I did,” Oliver fiercely whispers, his breath brushing against Connor’s cheek as Connor unholsters the gun at his hip. “Basic is basic. Active duty or desk jockey, we all go through basic.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I know, but you’re—” <i>Oliver.</i> “You’re tech support. You aren’t supposed to be here. What are you doing here, Oliver?”</p>
<p>+</p>
<p>A Coliver/Spy-ish AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Basic is Basic

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill originally posted on tumblr for: "where the fck did u learn how to use a fcking gun?!?!?" (connor says it)"
> 
> Hope you enjoy guys!  
> -Jules xoxo

“Where did you learn to shoot a gun?” Connor yells as Oliver grabs his hand and pulls him, sprinting, down the corridor. They round a corner and press back, flush against the wall, waiting for signs of their assailants. When they hear no one following them, Connor tries again, “Where did you learn to shoot like that?”

“The same place you did,” Oliver replies, absentmindedly, as they start moving again swiftly, but silently, to the stairwell.

“No. I learned in basic.”

“That’s what I said. Basic training. Same as you.”

“Oliver,” Connor starts but the click of a boot on tile up ahead alerts him, someone’s coming. Quickly, he wrenches open the first door he finds and shoves Oliver into the small closet, following close behind and tugging the door closed. The space is barely big enough for the both of them but still Connor pushes Oliver as far away from the door as possible, shielding Oliver’s body with his own. “I’m in the field and you’re in tech support. You didn’t have basic.”

“Yes I did,” Oliver fiercely whispers, his breath brushing against Connor’s cheek as Connor unholsters the gun at his hip. “Basic is basic. Active duty or desk jockey, we all go through basic.”

“Yeah, I know, but you’re—” _Oliver._ Oliver is the voice in his ear when he’s in the field. Oliver is the one who stays away, far removed from all of the danger and guns and potential for bodily harm. Oliver is the one who stays safe. There’s a muffled voice from down the hall and Connor falls silent. Stock still, he listens to Oliver’s short breath in his ear and feels the gentle rise and fall of Oliver’s chest against his own. Footsteps rush outside the door. Connor presses his temple against Oliver’s. Oliver’s free hand lifts to grip the front of Connor’s dress shirt so tightly his knuckles turn white. The steps in the hall outside echo away and Connor covers Oliver’s hand with his own. Looking down at their joined hands, Connor whispers, “You’re tech support. You aren’t supposed to be here. What are you doing here, Oliver?”

“They weren’t—” Oliver’s voice falters and Connor looks up. He expected Oliver to look scared or nervous, as far as Connor knows Oliver’s never done a day of active duty in his entire career, but Oliver doesn’t look frightened; he looks angry. “They weren’t going to get you out. The intelligence coming in wasn’t reliable and they couldn’t risk sending someone. They were just going to leave you here.”

Connor swallows. He’d assumed, of course, that was going to happen; it is what he would have done if he’d been the one making the call. “Makes sense. Collateral damage or whatever.”

“No.” Oliver shakes his head and turns his hand to grip Connor’s tight. “That’s unacceptable.”

“So your plan was to storm the place by yourself!” Connor knows they should be moving. They are wasting valuable time by arguing but he can’t just let Oliver think that putting himself in danger like this is okay. “You could have been killed. You could have been captured. You could have—Jesus, Oliver. I can’t even—” Connor trails off and pulls his hand out of Oliver’s to run it through his hair. A dozen scenarios are running through his head, each worse than the last.

“It’s a terrible feeling, isn’t it?” Oliver’s voice is soft and cautious. “Knowing someone you care about could be hurt.”

And that’s it. That’s all the confirmation Connor needs. He cradles Oliver’s jaw and their kiss is quick and firm. Biting and wet and too much tongue. The hand that slips into Connor’s hair is harsh and the pull is anything but gentle. His grip on Oliver’s hip is tight enough to maybe leave a bruise but Connor tightens it, just a little, to ensure it. He wants to leave a mark, stake a claim. Everything is primal and instinctual and fucking fantastic.

“We aren’t done with this conversation,” Connor says once they break apart on an explosion of breath.

“I certainly hope not,” Oliver replies, trying to catch his breath as they move to leave.

“And I still don’t like that you did this.” Connor presses an ear against the door before easing it open.

“Well,” Oliver says, reaching out for Connor’s hand as they continue heading for the stairwell. “I don’t like what you do either, so consider us even.”

Glancing over, Connor squeezes Oliver’s hand tight in his own, “Not a chance.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://ramblesandreblogs.tumblr.com/)


End file.
